Taming Each Other
by SoulfulSam
Summary: Post canon. Kat and Patrick have made up with each other after prom and have their whole lives ahead...hopefully with each other. This is a series of stories that can each stand alone or be read together as an ongoing tale of Kat and Patrick as they navigate their lives and each other's difficult dispositions
1. Take the Current Where it Serves

"I'm moving to New York."

Kat knew she was going to have to tell him about Sarah Lawrence sooner or later. She'd chosen a lazy Sunday afternoon in the beginning of June. They had come home to an empty house, with post-it notes left on the fridge from Bianca, who was at the movies with Cameron; and their dad, who was on call at the clinic. Twenty minutes later, she and Patrick were lying together in her bedroom, half-naked, her head resting on Patrick's chest as she breathed in the smell of his warm skin mixed with a hint of his laundry detergent, while his arms were wrapped loosely around her waist. Their lips were bright red and swollen after a brief but intense make-out session. The outline of his straining, clothed erection was noticeable through his jeans, but he wasn't complaining or even mentioning his discomfort and, if anything, that only made her love him more. He never pushed her for sex – hell, he hadn't even asked for it yet. She was going to miss him when she was gone.

Patrick shifted underneath her and she lifted her head to get a good look at his face. He was trying for a neutral expression, but wasn't as stoic as he liked to think; he didn't look surprised, but disappointed. Maybe a bit scared.

"When?" he asked.

"August. About a week before classes start."

"Which uni?"

"Sarah Lawrence."

He grinned and gently ruffled the top of her head. "Figures. Brilliant as you are." He waggled his eyebrows. "So let's make the best of our time."

His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her in for another kiss. She came along willingly and kissed him back, but his remark made her feel a little discomfited. She had tried to not think about the end of summer, but Patrick's suggestion to "make the best of their time" reminded her that their relationship was finite. Of course it was unfair of her to ask for it to be otherwise – she would be 3,000 miles away for most of the year and they'd only made up from their fight at prom and started dating in earnest a few weeks ago. Patrick liked to throw around the l-word, and she had no doubt that he meant it, but they'd never talked about monogamy or commitment, and perhaps that was the way it should be – no promises, no obligations holding them back, nothing to drag out for months while one or both of them felt beholden to the other instead of letting their lives move forward.

After breaking away from their kiss, Patrick gently cupped her face in one hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb, his face turning serious, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We'll make it work."

She raised her eyebrows and her mouth dropped open a little in surprise. "You want to?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and shook his head. "Course I do. Where else would a find a woman scarier than me?"

She kissed him again, hard. "Idiot."

.

"Katerina! I'm home. Are you alone?"

Kat, who was in her room trying to pick something to read from her bookshelf, was startled by her father's voice.

"Yeah!" she called out.

She wasn't lying; she was alone. But, contrary to the new "no boys in the house and, dear God, never in your bedroom" rule that had been instated since she and Bianca started dating, Patrick had left her room no more than five minutes ago. She wondered if her dad had seen his beaten-up, green truck leave the neighborhood. Her father didn't leave her in suspense for long.

"You didn't have that Verona boy over while I was out performing an emergency cesarean section to a seventeen year old girl in breech, did you?"

Both the sound of his voice and footsteps grew continuously louder as he was no doubt approaching her room for inspection.

"I just got home," she lied.

"Uh-huh." The door opened and she turned to see her dad eyeing her suspiciously. "I saw that jalopy of his." He took measured steps around the room and then, curiously, peered into her trashcan. "Did he come here to pick you up?"

"We went paddle boating."

"Again, huh? Must be one happening place."

"Very happening." Kat balled her hands into fists before instead settling them onto her hips, then turned away from her bookcase and spun around to face her father. "Are you done violating my privacy now?"

Her dad eyed her for a moment and then sheepishly hung his head. "I suppose so." He shuffled towards the door but then perked his head up as if he'd suddenly remembered he'd left the stove on. "Where's Bianca? And don't give me that 'off with bikers' stuff. I have a right to know where my own daughters are."

Kat rolled her eyes. "She's at the movies with Cameron."

Her dad's face turned panicked, but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded and then walked out, shutting the door behind him, but Kat had the distinct feeling their discussion was far from over.

Her suspicions were confirmed the next evening after dinner. As she loaded the dishwasher and Bianca wiped down the kitchen table, their father, who had disappeared for the past several minutes, called them into the living room. Whatever Kat was expecting, it wasn't her father sitting on the ottoman opposite the couch with a mysterious black plastic bag beside him, red faced and looking as if he was about to be executed.

"Look," he stated, "I know you're both..." He took a deep breath. "Dating now." He said 'dating' the way Kat imagined he might say, 'shooting heroin.' "But we still have house rules. If anything, they're more important now than ever. You don't walk into this house with a tattoo, a piercing, a baby, or a boy."

Bianca rolled her eyes. "We know, Daddy."

"And boys might ask..." he scrunched up his nose and frowned, "certain things of you. But the answer is always 'no'! No! Do you understand me?"

Bianca sighed exasperatedly. "Yeah, we get it."

Kat couldn't help herself – she burst out laughing. Her father narrowed his eyes and gave her a hard look.

"Katerina? You think this is funny?" Kat wiped her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile while she tried to get her face under control. "Okay, you know what? Bianca, go upstairs. I need to have a talk with your sister."

Bianca bounced off the couch. "Gladly," she huffed. In a moment, she had raced up the stairs and was out of sight.

As soon as Bianca was gone, their dad covered his face with both hands and rubbed his eyes. "Okay, Kat. This is a conversation a father never wants to have with his daughter, but I don't think there's any way around it now."

She squinted at him. "What?"

"Maybe I put too much pressure on you to conform without meaning to when I said Bianca could date if you did."

"It's not like that -"

"You're telling me you would have gone to that Bogey Lowenstein's party if Bianca hadn't begged you?"

"Well...no."

"And if you hadn't gone, maybe now you wouldn't be dating Kangaroo Jack."

"His name is Patrick."

"Kat, you've always been the sensible one, and so I never thought you'd start dating so early."

"I'm eighteen."

"And still in high school, with all those boys lying in wait to impregnate you."

"What?" Kat's mouth dropped open and she barked out another laugh. "What high school did you go to?"

"I can't prove it, but I know you had that Verona kid in your room yesterday afternoon. And soon you'll be going away to college where I won't be able to even know what you're doing."

Kat rolled her eyes. "That is absolutely..."

He held up his hand. "Just let me finish. You might legally be an adult now, but you're still my little girl, and I don't want a misguided decision to ruin your future before it even starts."

He grabbed the handle of the black bag sitting on the floor beside him and handed it to her. Kat took the bag and peered into it curiously. It was filled with colorful squares, which she quickly realized were condoms of different brands and sizes. Her jaw dropped open and she looked back up at her father with a horrified stare, but he was staring down at the floor as if he dearly wished he could disappear into it.

"This isn't an endorsement, but..." he paused. "We give them out for free at the clinic," he explained unnecessarily. "I don't like that you just flout the rules in this house, but unfortunately unlike your sister, you've also figured out there's not much I can do to stop you. I noticed there weren't any condoms in your trash or any of the toilets in the house -"

"Oh my God! Is that what you were doing with the wrench yesterday?"

He shook his head. "-And you can't – I don't care -" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't care if he says it doesn't feel as good, or that he's clean, or you don't need it this time – you make him wear one of those every single time. You got that?"

Kat was too shocked at first to formulate a response. She looked back and forth from her father to the bag of condoms. "I – we -" she finally spluttered, feeling heat rise into her face and ears. "We're not -"

Her dad reached out and grabbed one of her hands. "Kat, please. I still don't want him over here, especially when I'm not home. It's called respect, you got that?"

"Yeah," she said stupidly, not able to think of anything else to say.

"But, if you don't listen to your old man on anything else, just listen to me on this: you do not want to get pregnant. Not now. Just take the bag, will you? Give me at least a little peace of mind."

She nodded and rested the bag awkwardly on her lap. "Okay."

"Okay." He stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go and… do something else."

With that, he ran out of the room in the direction of his study as quickly as if his ass was on fire. Kat ran upstairs with the bag and threw it into her bedroom closet, glad to have the most awkward conversation she'd ever had in her life over with and the bag out of sight.

She sat on her bed and mulled over what her father had thought had happened between her and Patrick yesterday afternoon. Inevitably, this led to her imagining her time with Patrick very differently from the way it had actually gone. Her very limited experience with sex taught her that it complicated and ruined things. But Patrick was a better man than Joey. She saw herself on top of him, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly while he waited with bated breath and a look of anticipation on his face. She imagined him moving inside her and wondered what it would feel like. She was willing to believe it would be different from Joey's handful of quick, pistoning thrusts she'd endured as he'd feverishly chased his own pleasure while ignoring hers. When she went to sleep that night, she touched herself as she let her mind wander through the possibilities like walking through doors to several futures not yet explored.


	2. Dutifully Yours

Patrick sped his truck down the quiet suburban streets on his way home. It was his mom's day off, so he'd promised to be home by dinnertime and he still had a couple of errands to run. On the way home, he stopped by the local biker bar and then made a quick trip to a stationery store.

Patrick parked his truck behind his mom's, careful to avoid Gary's Geo Prism on the other side of the cramped, shared driveway. As he stepped out of his truck and onto the gravel below, he heard a screen door slam nearby. It was too close to be coming from his house. He heard heavy boots crunching the gravel behind him and groaned internally, steeling himself for the conversation likely coming. Sure enough, when he turned towards the nearest of the two ranchers on the property, he saw a large, denim clad figure lumbering towards him. Patrick set his jaw and gave him the best glower he could muster.

"Hey, Verona."

"Gary."

"So, how you doing?" Gary eyed Patrick for a second and then smirked. "Just got back from your girlfriend's house I see?"

"What?" Patrick furrowed his brows in confusion and gave himself a quick once over. His clothes were clean and unrumpled. "What are you talking about?"

"Nevermind. Look, I haven't wanted to bother your mom with this, but she still owes me $100 from last month's rent."

"Yeah, I know. We'll get it to you."

"You know, I cut your mom a lot of slack because I've got a soft spot in my heart for single moms -"

"Yeah, you're a regular saint," Patrick said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'll get it this week."

His mom was lying on the couch reading a magazine when he loudly clambered through the front door a couple of minutes later with a card in hand. He guessed she hadn't been there long; she was still wearing her painting overalls and her shoes were lying by the couch as if she'd just thrown them off. She sat up, smiled at him, and set the magazine down next to her on the couch, her finger still keeping the page.

"Hello, dear."

Patrick walked up to his mom and moved a lock of dark hair streaked with yellow paint out of her face to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Hi, Mom. Thought you weren't working today."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Just an odd job."

"By the way, I got the mail." Patrick held out the card towards her. "Grandma Kathy sent us a little money again. A hundred and fifty bucks."

His mom sighed. "Well, that'll help with the bills. She really shouldn't be doing that. I can't even imagine where she's getting all this money from. She's on a fixed income."

"I could get a job."

She pursed her lips. "Thank Grandma Kathy for me."

"I'm eighteen now."

"And still in high school."

"Only for -"

"We've discussed this." She clenched her jaw in the way she did when she was aggravated and about to shut down the conversation and Patrick held up his hands in mock surrender. She shut her eyes, ran her fingers across her forehead and the tension slowly worked its way from her face. "How was your day?" she asked.

Patrick made a few steps across their cramped living room and into the open kitchen. "Oh, you know." He sidestepped their small kitchen table to get to the fridge and then opened it, grabbed a carton of milk, and took a swig. "It was fine."

His mom watched him and her lips upturned into a funny little smile. "Did you just get back from your girlfriend's house?"

"What?" He put the milk back into the fridge, wiped his mouth, and took the couple of steps back into the living room. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Your shirt's on inside out and the buttons are crooked."

Patrick ran his hands along the sides of his torso and quickly felt the tag's soft, looped fabric. "Oh." His fingers move deftly to undo his buttons.

"You two started dating, what, about a month ago? Are you already rooting?"

Patrick clenched his jaw and looked away, embarrassed. He finished undoing his buttons, turned his shirt right side out, and slipped it back on.

His mom sighed. "Alright, alright. It's none of my business. Just... be careful, alright? If you're too young to work, you're definitely too young to have another mouth to feed." She laid back down on the couch and picked back up her magazine. "And I'm way too young to be a grandma."

Patrick grinned. "Far too beautiful to ever be called 'grandma'."

His mom snorted out a laugh, then leaned down and grabbed one of her shoes and half-heartedly threw it at him. "Oh, good on ya, ya larrikin. I'm going to go get washed up in a few. Dinner's in the oven. Can you take out the chicken in," she checked her watch, "ten minutes. The potatoes need an extra five after that."

They began their dinner in silence. Patrick hastily stuffed chicken and mashed potatoes into his mouth as he thought about something – anything – to talk about that would allow him to sidestep the conversation he knew his mom was trying to figure out how to start. She had let it drop earlier, but by the pointed looks she was giving him as she swirled her fork through her mashed potatoes instead of eating them he had a feeling that his putting his shirt on the wrong way when he'd hastily left Kat's earlier was going to cost him dearly.

"I, uh, I saw Gary today," he tried. "I could get that hundred bucks for the rent to him on my way in to school tomorrow morning."

"Sure." She brought a small forkful of chicken to her mouth and chewed. "Or I could do it later on my way in to work."

"No." Patrick shook his head. "No, I don't..." he trailed off. "I'll do it."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a sardonic smile. "You don't what? Like it that he's asked me out a couple dozen times?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

She snorted. "How he looks at me?"

"Yes, how he looks at you." This wasn't going much better than the conversation he was trying to avoid. "Like you're some kind of wounded gazelle in a National Geographic special. He's a creep."

She laughed. "Well, yes, I can tell that. What? I can take care of myself, you know."

He looked at her – determined eyes and a strong chin on a small, delicate face, a body that couldn't be more than 100 pounds soaking wet, legs just barely long enough to touch the floor in their kitchen chairs. He gave her a forlorn look and sighed.

"Okay, okay. Take it to him in the morning." She looked down at her plate and then back up at her son with an earnest look on her face. "So, about today." Oh no. Patrick shoved an entire dinner roll in his mouth and chewed slowly. "I know you don't want to talk about it with your mum, but are you using protection? Look, I understand. You're eighteen now; I remember what that was like." Patrick continued to chew and stared at her with wide eyes. "Look, I'm trying here. I wish you had a dad to talk to you about this stuff, but all you've got is me. So just please tell me you're using protection." She pointed at him. "And from STDs, too." Patrick swallowed his roll and gulped. His mom's eyes grew wide. "Oh god. That's a 'no.' That look says 'no.' Patrick, what are you thinking? You have to use a condom – at least a condom – every time you have sex. I wasn't much older than you are now when I had you, and that is _not_ going to happen to you."

Patrick weighed his options. She wasn't going to let him leave the table without an answer. He could just tell her he and Kat were practicing safe sex and hopefully end this terrible conversation but it felt weird to make up a sex life for himself, and especially to his mom.

"I'm not," he said slowly, looking down and flicking an imaginary piece of lint off the black and white checkered tablecloth, "because we're not." He glanced back up at her, then cocked his head to side and gave a single firm nod while holding his hand up in a nebulous gesture. "Yet."

His mother raised her eyebrows and blinked in surprise. "But… the shirt."

Patrick looked away towards the front door, cleared his throat, and clenched his jaw. "We do," he paused and felt his ears flush, "other stuff. Never that far."

"Oh." He heard his mom's fork clank against her plate. "Well, good." Another long pause. "But you should at least carry one in your wallet, just in case."

He'd been carrying the same condom in his wallet for months, long before he'd ever even met Kat; he was an optimistic guy. He looked down at his plate and stuffed a large forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

The next morning, Patrick went to the kitchen counter to pick up the hundred dollars for the landlord. Instead of the money he was expecting though, he found a ten dollar bill aloingside a note written in his mother's messy scrawl: _Gary came by to get the rent while you were out after dinner. This ten is for just in case._

Patrick rolled his eyes, but grabbed the ten and ran out the door. As he climbed into his truck, Gary stepped outside his house and waved at him. Patrick scowled. He'd spend that ten dollars, alright – on a baseball bat for his mom to keep around the house.


End file.
